


But for the Grace

by andloawhatsit



Series: Handle With Care [3]
Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Episode s0707 "Ghosts of Christmas Past", Established Relationship, M/M, New Year's Eve, Rare Pairings, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 12:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18151613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andloawhatsit/pseuds/andloawhatsit
Summary: It's New Year's Eve, it's late, and it's cold, and all Gavin wants is to go home and forget about Draycott Manor.





	But for the Grace

**Author's Note:**

> No hard feelings toward Scott, who Gavin replaces for the purposes of this story. (And whose name I got wrong the first time around! D:)

Barnaby let Dominic Jones kneel by his sister’s grave, obliging the constables to retreat grumbling to their cars while he stood still and silent, and Gavin stamped his feet in a futile attempt to warm them. They were alone in the night, seemingly alone in the world, two policemen and one magician-turned-murderer, and the air was bitter-cold, the snow deep underfoot, and the moon bright and huge over the headstones.

Gavin knew what the papers would say, how they would love the juicy story of selfish toffs getting what they had coming, but he himself felt only a persistent, miserable sadness for Claire English and Ferdy Villiers, the true victims of the whole ugly mess. He felt like he’d mis-swallowed peanut butter, like he was moments away from crying. It felt terrible, and to cap it off, Nico was in Scotland, filming a small part on a film somewhere outside Glasgow, and Gavin—who had all his working life as a single man taken Christmas and New Year's shifts for the extra pay—wanted nothing more than for them to be tucked up at home together. He'd forgotten his mobile that morning, rushing to meet Barnaby, and as he lost feeling in his toes, his mind wandered to the hope that a message from Nico would be waiting for him. They’d spoken briefly on Christmas Day, but had both had to leave for work shortly after, with little time for much in the week since then.

Barnaby tugged at Gavin's elbow. Jones had risen to his feet and was dusting off his knees. “He’s ready,” said Barnaby. “Let’s go.”

***

It was near two in the morning by the time Gavin headed yawning for the back exit of the Causton nick, having addressed the most urgent paperwork after seeing Jones safely stowed in custody. He was patting down his pockets in search of his car keys when Barnaby appeared from a darkened corridor. "Shit!” He gave his head a brisk shake. “Sorry, sir. I'd thought you’d gone home.”

"I was about to," Barnaby said, laughing. “Then I thought, _It's New Year's Eve, he'll never get a taxi,_ and thought you might like a ride.”

Only then did Gavin recall that his car was parked at home, since he'd caught a ride with Barnaby that morning. God, he was exhausted. “Thank you, sir, that’d be grand.”

They drove in the comfortable silence born of their long partnership, until Barnaby drew up to Gavin's flat, parked, and said, "Thank you, Troy, for all your hard work this year. And happy new year, too.”

"And to you, sir, and Cully and Mrs. Barnaby,” said Gavin, unbuckling himself with clumsy fingers and looking forward to his bed, even if Nico weren't there to share it. He thought again of Ferdy and Claire, those poor bastards. _There but for the grace of God..._

“And the same,” said Barnaby, “to your young man.”  
  
There had been a time when Gavin would have panicked at words like that—would have reacted with fear, blushed and blustered and denied, denied, denied—but that time, like the old year, had passed. Good riddance to bad rubbish. He wanted to see Nico so badly, to talk to him, to touch him, that his own desire seemed a presence in the closeness of the car. He smiled. "Thank you, sir. I’ll tell him, when I see him.”

***

The kitchen window gleamed in the night—most unusual, since Gavin was nothing if not scrupulous about the electric bill. Immediately, his policeman’s instincts chased away his fatigue. New Year’s Eve was a prime time for smash-and-grabs, with people unlikely to be home and noise unlikely to be noticed. The lock had not been forced, but a ladder and a broken window could serve just as well... Gavin frowned, then opened the door as quietly as he could, slipping through the doorway and down the hall, where he stopped short outside the sitting room.

Nico was sat up on the couch, blinking sleepily and cocooned in a blanket crocheted decades before by Gavin’s nan. “Oh, honey, happy new year,” he said. “We wrapped early and I _just_ managed to catch the train. I tried to call from Waverley, and then when I got here and tried again, I could hear your mobile from the bedroom. I’ve got some soup on the hob and— _oof_!”

Gavin had barrelled into him, and clutched him fiercely.

“Oh, hey, Gav." Nico shifted to return his embrace, to stroke his back. “Honey, you okay?”

“I love you,” he said, into Nico’s shoulder. "You know that, right?"

“Of course I do, you silly man," said Nico, laughing. He gave Gavin a quick kiss. "I love you too. _You_ know that, right?"

Gavin nodded, smiled at him, drank him in. 

Nico kissed him again, then said, “Come and eat some soup. You’re frozen, and I could do with a snack myself.”

"Yes, please," said Gavin. "And the guv'nor says happy new year, by the way."


End file.
